


Nobody's Business

by shireness



Series: Rock Star!Emma AU - Maybe I Won't Die Alone [5]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 22:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15156491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: Life's a dream, but when it's time for the Lost Girls to put out a new album, everyone's got an opinion. Try as she might to ignore the interference, some days, Emma just can't deal with it.





	Nobody's Business

**Author's Note:**

> Another follow-up piece to Maybe I Won't Die Alone. I'd strongly recommend you read the other installments first - everything will make more sense, I promise. 
> 
> Rated T for mild language.
> 
> Enjoy!

Killian is in the living room, keeping an eye on Wiley and trying to keep up with the boy’s active imagination when he hears the side door slam closed. He assumes it’s Emma; she’s been gone all day, and though it’s a bit earlier than she had anticipated returning, Killian is confident only his wife would enter the house with such a trademark lack of subtlety. She’d been out for a magazine interview today; with the upcoming release of the Lost Girls’ latest album, publicity was slowly ramping up, resulting in more and more engagements of this sort. Emma has never been wild about the publicity aspect of her job, far too private to enjoy talking to strangers about things that are none of their business. She had been more hopeful about the prospects of this interview - surely a respected music industry magazine would stick to the relevant content - but if the force of that door-slam is anything to go by, things didn’t go nearly as well as they both hoped.

“In here, love!” he calls, before turning back to their suddenly-excited toddler, who’s anxiously watching the doorway. “That’s right, lad, Mama’s home,” he says, before whispering conspiratorially, “Why don’t you go make her something?”

The previous week, Killian had ducked into a thrift store with Wiley after seeing a box of records through the window, and the little boy had discovered a plastic kitchen set that he immediately fell in love with. Killian hadn’t ended up leaving with any records - the box had been full of mostly amateur worship songs - but the play kitchen had wound up being purchased and loaded into the back to the car, immediately followed by a stop at the nearest toy store to purchase more plastic foods. Wiley had been enthusiastically “feeding” everyone ever since. No one particularly cares; it’s adorable, and besides, Killian’s read about how good imaginative play is for young minds. Hopefully, if Emma’s in a foul mood, one of Wiley’s pretend concoctions will cheer her up.

The woman herself appears moments later, stockinged toes on display after already removing her boots and face still covered in the thick makeup needed for the dramatic interview photographs. She looks exhausted, with more than just that bone-deep fatigue associated with raising a toddler; there’s an emotional fatigue as well that wasn’t present when she left the house that morning.

“Mama!” Wiley excitedly chirps, rushing her legs and managing to bring a smile to Emma’s face. 

“Hey, little man,” she murmurs, bending down to drop a kiss on his chestnut curls. “I missed you.”

Wiley holds on for a moment longer, letting his mother love on him, before breaking his grip to rush back to his play set. “I made you something!”

As their son plates his latest creation - what appears to be the mound of peas, a disproportionate banana, and an egg - Killian catches his wife’s eye. “How’d it go?” he asks, only to receive a shake of the head in response. She may not want to talk about it right now, but Emma ought to know after all this time that he’ll coax it out of her, one way or another. Before he can begin, however, Wiley’s back with the plate for his mother’s inspection and appreciation, effectively allowing her to avoid the conversation.

Emma makes all the prerequisite munching noises as she pretends to eat their son’s hellish plastic concoction, causing the little boy to beam. “Very tasty, kiddo, thank you so much,” she replies, handing all the remains back.

Killian intervenes before Emma can find any more excuses to avoid whatever’s bothering her. “Hey buddy, why don’t you make a feast for all of your stuffed animals? Mama and I will just be in the other room.” Wiley barely hears him, already invested in whatever his brain is dreaming up next, but nods in that absent-minded way Killian could swear he picked up from Emma. 

Emma rolls her eyes, but doesn’t resist when he leads them to the adjoining office. Killian isn’t quite sure why they both insist on keeping an office; it’s never used, more of just a place to keep a desk with a printer and some files. Killian strongly suspects that they have an office just because it feels like the thing to do - the kind of thing every picture-perfect family has in their picket-fence house with 1.8 kids and a dog. Emma’s been known to occasionally camp out in there to write, but its main appeal right now is the draw of a private, child-free space and a comfy chair. 

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks, again, settling into the armchair as Emma remains standing, pacing with leftover energy and irritation. When she doesn’t answer immediately, he resorts to jokes, attempting to cheer her up. “Are we getting divorced again?” he asks, mock-seriously.  Every so often, a tabloid tries to claim that their marriage is disintegrating - a claim which amuses Killian and irritates Emma to no end. Usually, when he makes jokes about the situation and how ridiculous the very idea is, it can draw a reluctant smile out of Emma, but she seems beyond that point today, his attempt at humor only deepening the furrows in her brow.

“Hey, hey, darling, it was a joke. An awful one at that,” he soothes. Her pacing is starting to make him a little dizzy, so he pats his lap in an invitation to come sit. “Tell me, what happened? I know something has, or you wouldn’t be this upset.”

Huffing a sigh, Emma collapses into the chair next to him, leaning into his side and shoulder with her legs thrown perpendicularly across his. “I just want to help, love,” he murmurs into her hair, pressing a kiss into the blonde curls, only slightly put off by the unnatural hairspray scent and dry, plastered texture.

“I know,” she admits. “It’s just…” Sitting up straighter to better look him in the eye, she circles her arms around his neck before continuing. “It was just a bad day. One of those interviews where all the questions are awful, and then Mary Margaret called right afterwards, which didn’t help. I know, I’m probably overreacting, but… it just  _ gets _ to me.”

“I know, Swan,” he murmurs, rocking her gently in the same way he does with Wiley. “I’m not blaming you. If you want to vent, I’m a willing ear, you know that.”

There’s silence for a long moment, only broken by Wiley chattering away to himself in the next room, before his love finally breaks and opens up. “I was looking forward to this, you know? I thought I’d get some good questions about the songwriting process or how we’ve evolved as a group or things like that. It’s a music magazine, for God’s sake, not some gossip rag. You expect the questions to be a little more in-depth.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Yeah, well, clearly, it didn’t make sense to her. It just devolved into this whole conversation about being a working mother. You  _ know _ I’m happy to talk about our kid, but that was the  _ entire conversation _ . How did I feel now about  having such a demanding career that would take me away from my son? She said it like that too, like she was trying to guilt me. Not to mention, does she  _ understand _ what I do? Arguably, I’ve got more flexibility in my career than most women! I write from home, I can bring him to the recording studio if I want, everything’s based out of London now so I don’t have to travel halfway around the world just to create a new record… For God’s sake, I can bring him with me on tour!” she explodes, pitch progressively rising, tossing her hands in the air in outrage. “We’ve already planned on it, both you and Wiley coming with me! I don’t have to be separated from my kid any more than millions of other women across the world, and in fact, probably less! But because I’m a ‘public figure’ —” Emma mimes air quotes around the last words, a sure sign of her irritation — “we’ve got to make it a whole big thing. And from a woman, at that! She, of all people, ought to know that I didn’t stop being my own person when we had Wiley! But  _ no _ , she’s some brash young thing who thinks she’s an Insightful Reporter, all while asking the most cliched and overdone questions she could. What, am I going to have to  _ specifically _ ask to be interviewed by mothers from here on out in hopes that they’ll know I don’t want to talk about my kid 24/7? That it’s fine - heck,  _ encouraged _ to ask me other questions? I probably should have expected this, going into major interviews and publicity for the first time since Wiley was born, but trust me, that does not make it  _ any _ less frustrating,” she finishes, finger stabbing the air in emphasis.

“I know, love,” Killian attempts to soothe, rubbing a hand along her spine. It must work, because he feels her tension lessen, Emma once again slumping against his side with her arms around his neck instead of the wild gesticulating she’d been engaging in earlier.

“She did start asking about the writing eventually, but I think I was too pissed off to really be grateful for that. Not to mention, she was still asking questions that assumed being a mom would automatically change the meaning of all the songs I write going forward. Which sometimes it does, yeah, but… can’t I just write a song because it’s fun? Guys do, all the time. A lot of my stuff isn’t personal in the least. There doesn’t need to be some big ‘deeper meaning’.” The air quotes make a second appearance, but they’re less forceful than previously, which Killian takes as a good sign. Huffing a put-upon sigh, Emma continues. “And then, of course, Mary Margaret calls, and —” she stops abruptly. “You know I love them, right, her and David? And that I’m happy for them?”

“I do know that.” Even if he hadn’t Killian would have said it anyways, recognizing that they’ve entered the part of the conversation where he’s just expected to agree. Thankfully, it’s true - Killian knows very well how much she adores her brother and his wife.

“I love Mary Margaret so much, but she is driving me crazy with this baby talk! If it was just about her own upcoming kid, fine. She’s pregnant, she’s excited, it’s to be expected. But she keeps trying to convince me that we should have another! Even if she is my sister, how is that any of her business?” Emma pauses, looking at Killian expectantly, and he hurries to respond.

“It’s really not.”

“ _ Exactly! _ It’s none of her business. I mean, Wiley isn’t even three - there’s still people out there who try to count his age in months!”

“People you rather hate,” Killian points out reasonably, only to receive an impatient look from his wife.

“I do, because it’s more of a pain to say 32 months than two and a half, and I shouldn’t have to do math, but that’s not the point. The point is - what’s the rush? Why is everyone pressuring us to have another? Why do they think they have the right to do that? Not to mention, I’m so happy we have Wiley, but honestly? Those last few months before he was born were kind of miserable. Mary Margaret’s still at the point where the bump is cute and everyone talks about how she glows and she doesn’t always need help getting out of chairs. Let her come pester me about having another when she feels like she’s the size of a house and her shoes don’t fit and people keep asking if she’s _sure_ she isn’t having twins, because it’s a lot less fun then.”

Killian remembers that stage, remembers how grouchy Emma was, and he can’t blame her for her reluctance to be subjected to that discomfort again. Mostly, he just wants to tell his sister-in-law to mind her own damn business, but that would probably be frowned upon. Still, he hears Emma’s point loud and clear, and agrees wholeheartedly;  _ they _ should be the only ones making decisions about their family.

Emma must take his silence as dissent or concern rather than an introspective moment, however, as she moves a hand to his face, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb. “Hey, I’m not saying I never want another kid. I’m just saying —”

“— not now. I know, love, I agree. Let’s try and get out of the terrible twos before we even start contemplating adding to our little crew.”

Emma smiles softly, her thumb still stroking the apple of his cheek. “Thanks.” They spend a moment just staring into one another’s eyes - just as sappy as they ever were - before Emma leans up to press a gentle kiss on his lips. “I really do love you, Jones.”

“I love you too, Swan,” he replies just as gently, a small smile gracing his face.

After a another moment to themselves, Emma stands and stretches, groaning dramatically. “I suppose we should go make sure the kid we already have hasn’t torn the place apart.”

“If you insist,” he teases, accepting the hand she offers to help haul him up. Upon regaining his footing, Killian dramatically kisses Emma’s hand, resulting in a eye roll from the lady (but one he’s sure is disguising a smile). Before she reaches the door, he pulls her back for one last word, hands still entwined. 

“I’m sorry you had such a rough day, love.”

Emma just shrugs in response. “Me too. I feel better after venting to you, though. And hey, we’ll deal with it together, right?”

“Of course, Swan.”

(They always do.)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this latest installment! I always have fun writing this verse.
> 
> Special thanks to @snidgetsafan, who beta'd this for me (I know, that's new and different, right?). Thanks, babe - you're the best!
> 
> If you liked this, consider leaving kudos, comments or reviews. I love hearing from you guys!
> 
> This will also be posted on tumblr - I'm @shireness-says. Come say hi.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
